Sure As Sin
by xstormqueenx
Summary: When the dragons awake, Clara discovers her sinful side may just save the world. {And The Apple Of Discord, AU}.
1. Return Of The Mac

**Author's Note:** This is the sequel to _A Christmas Clara._ The reading order so far for all of my Flynn/Clara fiction is: _And She Was Not An Adventure, Plato's Step-Daughter, A Christmas Clara,_ and _Sure As Sin._ Each new Flynn/Clara story will include an updated reading order. All my Librarians fiction can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

* * *

 **Return Of The Mac**

"Why is the clippings book clipping my ear!?" Ezekiel yelled, making everybody whirl around, just in time to see the clippings book dive-bomb Ezekiel, rather like a seagull.

"Where are your manners!?" Jenkins bellowed, snatching up a butterfly net.

"Somewhere under my bed," Ezekiel gasped, diving under Flynn's desk for cover, only for it to materialize on the other side of the room instead, leaving him open and exposed.

"I'm talking to the book!" Jenkins retorted, swiping the butterfly net in its direction, trying and failing to catch it.

Clara hummed the opening bars of _Habanera_ , making the clippings book fly to her hand, where it landed gently on her outstretched palm, aptly more butterfly than bird now. Jenkins set the butterfly net down, looking put out, Ezekiel lowering his arms, looking relieved. "And that's how you do it," Clara said smartly, making Jacob repress a smirk.

"Why is it so agitated?" Cassandra asked, frowning.

As she spoke, the clippings book started flapping its pages, scattering scraps of paper to the wind, Eve hastily snatching them up. "Water-spirits, weather anomalies, five score and nine years," she said, brow furrowing.

"Earthquakes and geysers," Clara said, reading from a tattered list, "Yellowstone, Mongolia, Taiwan, China, Japan" -

\- "Massive geo-thermal phenomenon dating back as far as 1643," Jacob said, scrunching up his eyes, struggling to decipher the paper's contents.

"Your handwriting is terrible!" Jenkins said, rounding on the clippings book, making it fly at his face. "Argh!" he screamed, ducking, the clippings book soaring over his silver head.

"Now you know how I feel!" Ezekiel snapped, diving behind Jacob.

"Don't use me as a human shield!" Jacob bellowed, grabbing Cassandra and Clara's hands, dragging them behind an obliging pillar.

"Don't use me as one either!" the pillar squeaked.

Unperturbed, Eve reached up and snatched the clippings book out of the air, clamping its covers shut. "And that's how you _really_ do it," she said, parodying Clara's earlier speech.

"Thank you," Jenkins said stiffly, smoothing back his hair before taking it from her. "Now stop panicking," he said to the clippings book, albeit more respectfully, "it is most unseemly."

"Why is it panicking" - Cassandra began, emerging from behind the pillar, only for her words to be cut off by Ezekiel's _Crazy Frog_ ring-tone.

"Hey, I changed that to Barber's _Adagio for Strings_ ," Clara said, narrowing her eyes at Ezekiel.

"And I changed it back," Ezekiel said smartly, before answering the call. " _Hellooooo_ ," he sing-songed, only for his face to darken. "It was double-cheese and pepperoni, not roast pumpkin and chorizo!" he snapped, stamping his foot.

"And as I was saying," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes, "why is the clippings book panicking" -

The Annex doors suddenly started rattling, the sounds of a sea-storm filling the room, the wind howling, rain roaring down, making Clara almost feel the spray of the waves striking her skin. She and Cassandra just looked at each other, before snatching up the thickest books they could find, brandishing them like swords. Eve grabbed her gun, Jacob a medieval mace, Jenkins standing his ground as Ezekiel discreetly hid behind him, phone still clamped to his ear. The doors flew open, only to reveal Flynn, resplendent in a bright yellow raincoat and matching hat.

"It's the dragons!" he bellowed, only to glance behind him. "Oh, you got the back door working," he noticed, before bestowing a crooked smile upon them all.

 _And that's why he's spinnin' 'round in my head_  
 _Comes back to me, burning red…_


	2. The Hartley Of My Heart

**The Hartley Of My Heart**

"One, two, three," Flynn said, pointing at Cassandra, Ezekiel and Jacob, " four being the Hartley of my heart," he continued, drawing Clara to him, "and then the exemplary Eve," he finished, beaming at them all again.

For a moment, there was just stunned silence, then everybody but Jenkins descended on him, exchanging hugs and handshakes, voices battling each other for dominion. When Flynn emerged from the flurry, his canary yellow rain hat askew, Clara clutching his hand, Jenkins finally deigned to step forwards, his stance stiff, his own hands clasped behind his back. "Carsen," he said formally, inclining his head.

"Jenkins," Flynn said just as formally. He hadn't shown his face at the Annex for three months, nor had he called, reserving his random visits and phone calls for Clara, something she kept secret from the others at his request. He was still searching for the Library, and he was still being sidetracked, but he'd promised Clara he would come back, and he'd kept his promise, showing up on her windowsill when she least expected it.

"Did you come to take them away?" Jenkins said, gesturing to Ezekiel and the others. "I keep their bags packed."

"You got the back door working," Flynn said, not listening to a word Jenkins was saying.

" _You're_ the one that got it working," Clara reminded him, "just before you left, round about the time of the Labyrinth, remember?"

"I just remember you," Flynn said, tilting his face to hers, only for Jenkins to _hem-hem_ rather pointedly.

"You should make that my ring-tone instead," Ezekiel said, before _hem-hemming_ himself.

"That _hem-hem_ is trademarked," Jenkins snapped. "You're breaching my copy-right!"

"Um, you mentioned something about dragons," Cassandra said to Flynn, raising her hand like she was in a classroom.

"Yeah, what's that about?" Jacob said, folding his arms across his chest.

"The earthquakes are being caused by the dragons," Clara breathed, the truth suddenly hitting her, startling her.

"The earthquakes _are_ the dragons," Flynn said, whipping off his rain-hat, only to reveal a black beanie underneath. "All dragons live beneath the earth," he explained, hanging his hat up on a peg, ignoring its lecherous wink, "they sleep ninety per cent of their lives away," he continued, shrugging off his raincoat, hanging it up as well, "but when angered, they awake, and as Jenkins can tell you, they _wreak_ havoc."

"Wait, how much havoc?" Cassandra asked nervously.

"Until there is no more havoc to be wreaked," Jenkins announced ominously.

* * *

"Ah, my desk is just as I left it," Flynn beamed, snapping his suspenders.

"And you are just as I left you," the desk retorted.

"You love me really," Flynn said, smile slipping slightly.

"Why are you dressed as a fisherman?" Cassandra suddenly asked Flynn, frowning.

"It's alarmingly attractive," Ezekiel said, frowning.

"I know," Flynn said, striking a seductive pose.

"Well, save it for your lady love," Jenkins snapped, "be her bit of scruff somewhere else."

"No, no, no," Flynn corrected them, "I usually dress up as a highwayman" -

\- "Shut up now," Clara sing-songed, turning crimson.

"And anyways," Flynn said hastily, snatching up a tome, "back to the dragons!"

"Back to the boudoir," Ezekiel said silkily, twirling an imaginary moustache, only for the clippings book to clip him around the ear again.

"Now Eastern dragons," Flynn said, flipping open a page, ignoring Ezekiel, "we never know what side of the subterranean bed they're going to wake up on. _But_ Western dragons, they're a bit more hot-headed - did you see what I did there?" he aimed at Clara. "Hot-headed, hot-headed, _hot-headed?_ "

"Yes, I did," Clara said, graciously granting her approval, "well done."

"Why are they more hot-headed?" Jacob asked, brow furrowing.

"Because they're more consistent" -

\- "Western dragons are actually formless," Jenkins interrupted, "and they're hoarders. Eastern dragons being elemental spirits, one can reason with them" -

\- "I don't think so," Flynn said, rolling his dark eyes dramatically.

"Western and Eastern dragons have been entangled - quite literally - in a blood feud for the past three thousand years," the desk interjected, tapping its legs impatiently.

"Not dissimilar to the East Coast - West Coast hip-hop rivalry of the late twentieth century," Jenkins said loftily, glaring down at the desk.

"Still down with modern pop culture references, I see," Jacob said, sidling over to him.

"Still am," Jenkins said, sidling away from him.

"Dragons are extremely possessive," Flynn said, setting the tome down, "and if something of theirs is taken, they can react very harshly" -

\- "Havoc," Cassandra said hastily, anxious to answer him before he even asked.

"And magic coming back into the world hasn't helped," Flynn said, shaking his head. "The dragons waking up is apocalyptic enough," he said, brandishing his forefinger at them, "thus it requires the more diplomatic aspects of Librarianism. And _thus_ ," he twirled his forefinger, "my umpteenth premature return." He looked sideways at Clara. "Did I just use thus twice?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Thus is a fine word," Clara assured him, "keep on thussing."

"That's my word."

"No, it's mine now."

"You can't own a word."

" _I_ can," Clara crowed.

"Do you have any idea what they've taken?" Jacob said, waving his hand in front of Flynn's face.

"No," Flynn snapped.

"Vexing," Clara trilled.

"Right, Stone, I want you and Ezekiel to research dragon history and lore," Flynn said, flapping Clara aside, "Cassandra, I want you to concentrate on the symbols of the Eastern dragons, Eve, the hagiography of the Western dragons, and Jenkins, I'm going to need" -

Jenkins handed him his white suit on a hanger.

"Ah, I see I've been spectacularly pre-empted," Flynn said, taking it from him.

"What about me?" Clara asked, confused.

"You're with me," Flynn said, steering her away from the others, "how many times do I have to keep telling you that?"

* * *

 _Nice to meet you, where you been?_ _  
_ _I could show you incredible things_ _  
_ _Magic, madness, heaven, sin…_

"We have to stop doing this," Clara murmured, knotting her fingers through Flynn's dark hair.

"I know, we have dragons to deal with," Flynn said, drawing back from her, only for Clara to draw his face down to hers again. Several long moments passed, before Flynn gently pushed her away. "Dragons," he said reprovingly, picking up his white suit.

"Isn't that the suit you said you would show me?" Clara said, smoothing down her hair. "The dazzling one?"

"Well remembered," Flynn praised, disappearing behind some bookshelves, making Clara roll her eyes at his misplaced modesty. They were a bit past the blushing sweethearts stage, being more old married couple now.

"How could I forget?" Clara said, craning her neck slightly.

"Don't peek," Flynn admonished, clutching his shirt to his chest.

"For my eyes only, hey?" Ezekiel said from overhead, making Flynn fling his beanie hat up at him.

"Peeping Pom!" Clara snapped, making to go after him, only for Flynn to reach through the shelf and grab her arm, halting her in her tracks.

"Calm down, Clara," he said quietly. "It's just a joke."

Clara just stared at him, looking slightly dazed, before catching herself. Flynn studied her for a moment, waiting for the echo of Guinevere to fade, before resuming donning his suit. He had spent Christmas with Clara, a blur of long nights and long walks, making it hard for Flynn to leave her again. He'd discovered sides to Clara he didn't know existed; a Clara who could cook a three course meal blindfolded; who could impersonate all the actors in Eastenders with admirable aplomb; a Clara who wandered absentmindedly through the apartment wearing only his shirt and Beanie Baby patterned boxers, inadvertently locking herself out to let a stray cat in, ignoring Flynn's shouted reminder through the letterbox that she wasn't allowed animals in the apartment.

Their time together had made Flynn think of the future, what he wanted from it with Clara. But he'd kept such thoughts to himself, knowing Clara would consider it as jumping the gun. He'd spent so long keeping Clara at arm's length, then leaving her with only a kiss and a promise he'd come back. And when he did come back, it was only to find Clara confused about where she stood with him, when he was so sure it was by his side. But Christmas had consecrated that fragile bond, changing everything between them. For the first time, Clara had faith in Flynn.

She had confided in him about Chamberlain House and the Serpent Brotherhood, forcing him to conceal how much this knowledge disturbed him. She had been seventeen when her father had died, driving her out of the house she'd been born and raised in, the year where everything had fallen apart, rearranging Clara's world into lines she didn't recognize. But it was also the year the Library had sent her the letter inviting her for interview; the year the Serpent Brotherhood had acquired and set up secret base in Chamberlain House, apparently biding their time, waiting for Clara to come home.

The Library had tried to save Clara long before now, but fate had conspired to foil its plans, sending Clara in a downward spiral. But she was here now, with him, and that's all that mattered. Straightening his tie, he emerged from behind the bookshelves, before doing a quick twirl, enjoying Clara's long lingering glance of appreciation. "See, I knew you'd like this suit," he said, taking her hands in his.

"You read me like a book," Clara said pertly.

"My _favourite_ book," Flynn corrected her, dropping a kiss on her knuckles, before suddenly letting go of her hands, his brow furrowing. "Was that the doorbell?" he asked, peering round the pillar.

"No," Clara said, confused.

"I arrived from the future," he said, confusing her further. "I'm expecting Mr. Drake,the Eastern dragons' representative any minute now."

"A giant winged firebreathing dragon is coming here!?" Clara exclaimed incredulously, her eyebrows climbing her forehead.

"Well, in the supernatural world, the Library, and thus, the Librarian" -

\- "My word!"

"Judson used to take care of all this sort of thing," Flynn continued, ignoring her outburst, "but he's obviously not here" -

\- "So we have to deal with it instead," Clara finished for him.

"Exactly," Flynn said, brow furrowing further. "Why hasn't that doorbell rung yet?" he said, looking put out.

"Maybe he got stuck in traffic," Clara suggested.

"Maybe," Flynn said, frowning. "And now where were we?" he said suddenly, slowly, looking at her as though seeing her for the first time.

"Let me show you," Clara said, winding her arms around his neck.

 _New money, suit and tie_ _  
_ _I can read you like a magazine_ _  
_ _Ain't it funny, rumors fly_ _  
_ _And I know you heard about me…_


	3. Demons On The Doorstep

**Demons On The Doorstep**

 _Hopes may rise on the Grasmere_ _  
_ _But Honey Pie, you're not safe here_ _  
_ _So you run down_ _  
_ _To the safety of the town…_

Flynn leaned back in the faded armchair, Clara in his lap, perusing a volume of Fordyce's Dragons, his arm wrapped around his waist, anchoring her to him. Despite the dragons, and the loss of the Library, for the first time in a long time, he was happy, deeply contented with the Clara card destiny had dealt him. It had taken a lot of trouble to bring them together, but none of that mattered to him now. He had his Hartley, his home. Flynn was so wrapped up in his reverie, he didn't hear the doorbell ring, the sound reaching him several seconds too late.

Before Clara could react, she was tumbled out of his lap, scattering Fordyce's Dragons to the wind, Flynn racing out of sight, his long limbs lending him speed. Jenkins set down his tea-cup, the others frozen to the spot, not understanding. Mind reeling, Clara did a quick headcount, only to see Ezekiel missing. For a moment, she hesitated, and then she was running, following the echo of Flynn's epic _NOOOOOOOOO!_ whilst in the distance, disaster was unfolding.

"Who here speaks for the Library?" the stranger asked, looming over Ezekiel.

"I do, mate," Ezekiel said, "you got my double-cheese and pepperoni" -

\- "I do!" Flynn gasped, waving his arms like windmills. "He doesn't speak for the Library, I do!"

"Who speaks first speaks for the Library," the stranger intoned as Clara joined the party, skidding to a halt at the sight of the strange tableau before her.

"Technically that is true," Flynn said hastily, "but that's a mere technicality" -

\- "There ought to be an Intercession," the stranger aimed at Clara, startling her.

\- "An Intercession?" Clara echoed, glancing at Flynn for help.

"No, I don't believe there should be," Flynn said, taking a step forwards.

"You do not speak for the Library," the stranger said, shoving Flynn aside.

"Neither do I," Clara pointed out, shrinking against the wall slightly. "But you're speaking to me like I do."

"Beauty stands apart," the stranger said strangely, turning away from her. "Is there not to be an Intercession?" he fired at Ezekiel, advancing on him.

Flynn frantically mimed _NO!_ at Ezekiel.

"Intercess all you want, mate," Ezekiel said, ignoring Flynn, "as long as I'm intercessing with my double-cheese and" -

The stranger stalked off, leaving Ezekiel at a characteristic loss for words.

"He doesn't have my pizza, does he?" Ezekiel finally said with great difficulty.

"No, he does not," Flynn snapped, before leaving, all but dragging Clara with him.


	4. Pigs And Dragons

**Pigs And Dragons**

 _Now I know how Joan of Arc felt  
As the flames rose to her Roman nose  
And her Walkman started to melt…_

"Let the Intercession of Dragons commence," the stranger bellowed, raising his palms, making the furniture levitate from the floor, a strange wind picking up, nearly knocking everyone off their feet.

"Mr. Drake, then," Clara yelled above the din.

"Yep," Flynn yelled back, holding onto the door handle for dear life.

Mr. Drake lowered his hands, puffing out his chest instead.

"He's a dragon in a man costume?" Cassandra said in a loud aside to Jenkins.

"He _is_ a lawyer," Jenkins said deadpan.

"I represent the Fei Lung," Mr. Drake intoned, striding around the room, "Western pigs have stolen the mystic pearls of the Fei Lung" -

\- "So there's pigs _and_ dragons," Ezekiel interrupted. "Great!"

"The Arbiter's words are now on record," Mr. Drake droned, "pigs and dragons are great!"

"He doesn't" - Flynn began, only for Mr. Drake to dash his hand aside.

"You do not speak for the Library," Mr. Drake snapped.

"Here, hold up," Eve exclaimed, only for Mr. Drake to round on her.

"You do not speak for the Library!" he boomed. "Only the Arbiter can speak for the Library," he continued, advancing on Ezekiel.

"What about me?" Clara said nervously, stepping forwards, ignoring Flynn's frantic signalling to shut up.

"Beauty stands apart," Mr. Drake said, bowing to her.

"So I can speak for the Library?" Clara asked hesitantly.

"Beauty stands alone," Mr. Drake replied, making her pale. He turned to Ezekiel instead, so they were practically nose to nose, Ezekiel swallowing hard, feeling not a little intimidated. "If the pearl isn't returned by tomorrow's sunset," he said from between gritted teeth, "I cannot withhold the fury of Fei Lung."

"That's why we're going to get that pearl back into your hands ASAP," Flynn drawled like a second-hand car salesman, making Mr. Drake slowly turn around, "and yes, I do not speak for the Library," Flynn finished for him, only to be distracted by Jenkins wildly windmilling his hands through the air. Flynn frowned, Jenkins pointing at himself then Ezekiel, the message finally percolating through Flynn's skull. "Ah, Arbiter," he said, rounding on Ezekiel, "have you selected your counsel yet for the Intercession?"

Ezekiel just looked at him blankly. "The what?" he said, brow furrowing.

"The counsel," Clara hastily prompted, picking up her cue, jerking her head at Jenkins.

Ezekiel just continued to stare blankly at them, forcing Flynn and Clara into doing Jenkins impersonations, frantically miming smoothing back their hair and looking self-important. But this did nothing but confuse Ezekiel further until Jenkins gestured to himself, grimacing at Ezekiel in the parody of a political smile. "You mean Jenkins?" Ezekiel said, looking taken aback at Jenkins's grotesque face pulling.

"Ah, yes, thank you," Jenkins said stiffly, quickly stepping forwards, "I gladly accept the honour of Intercession Conciliatory for the Arbiter of the Library."

"Arbiter, we will begin the list of grievances" - Mr. Drake flipped open an old fashioned fob-watch, "in eight minutes." He stalked away, leaving everyone at a loss for words, Jacob letting out a low whistle.

"Well," Flynn said, recovering himself, "let's say the Arbiter and the Conciliatory," he gestured to Ezekiel and Jenkins, "stay here with Mr. Drake, while the rest of us reconvene in some discreet corner."


	5. Frankly, Mr Flynn

**Frankly, Mr. Flynn**

"That's supposed to be me!?" Flynn whispered to Clara upon being confronted by Ezekiel's statue. Somehow he'd overlooked its presence during his previous returns, but he'd not been granted that boon this time round, the sight offending his eyes.

"Later, sweetpea," Clara trilled hysterically, glancing nervously over at Mr. Drake who was watching them. "Hi!" she almost screamed at him, startling everyone. "Can I get you anything to drink? Anything at all!"

"The tears of our enemies rinsed from their bodies as their bones are _crushed_ ," Mr. Drake hissed, making Clara swallow hard.

"I think Jenkins has jasmine tea," she said with some difficulty, Flynn frantically signalling for Jenkins to come forth.

"Oh, jasmine, yes please," Mr. Drake said quite normally, sounding almost human for a moment.

"Certainly," Jenkins said smoothly, raising his eyebrows at Clara who was now sweating buckets.

"I think Clara has hit her crisis point," Cassandra pointed out, looking worried.

"And she was doing so well," Jacob countered, pretending to shed a tear.

"He's a ticking time bomb ready to blow," Clara snapped, "one wrong move, and we're sky high."

"We're fried, actually," Flynn corrected her, "like eggs."

"Thank you for that," Eve said, rolling her eyes.

"What's this pearl he's banging on about anyways?" Jacob asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"The mystical pearl represents the Eastern dragons," Flynn explained, tugging at his tie, "so I'm guessing the Pearl of Zhao. If the Western dragons stole it, their last known stronghold was in the caverns underneath Rome, the Eternal City."

"So we're going to Rome?" Cassandra squeaked, clasping her hands together.

"To fight dragons!?" Clara said, looking like she was going to hyperventilate.

"Cracking," Jacob said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hopefully not fight," Flynn said hastily, glaring at Jacob, "more... extraction."

"You're talking a heist here," Eve said, glancing over at Ezekiel.

"Repo job," Jacob observed.

"The one time we _absolutely_ need Jones..." Eve said from between gritted teeth.

"I know," Flynn said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "but we can pull this off, I know we can."

 _Frankly, Mr Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck_ _  
_ _I've got the twenty-first century breathing down my neck_ _  
_ _I must move fast, you understand me…_


	6. Vicar In A Tutu

**Vicar In A Tutu**

Flynn glanced out at the far horizon, the swarm of city lights drowning out the stars, leaving only the moon to rule supreme over Rome. "I was going to bring you here," he said, turning to Clara, "but not like this."

"It's alright," she said, taking his hand, "maybe another time."

"We're in the _Vatican_ ," Eve said in disbelief, turning to them.

"Just _off_ the Vatican," Flynn corrected her, "the entrance to the caverns are under a little courtyard, just about here," he said, whirling around at the sound of footsteps, only to see the Pope rounding the corner, before slowing to a stop at the sight of them, his craggy face becoming confused.

"We're _in_ the Vatican," Eve repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y' know, robbing this place was on Ezekiel's bucket list," Cassandra pointed out helpfully.

"Don't remind me," Flynn rejoindered, "and we're not robbing it!" he hastily amended, bowing and scraping to the Pope. "Merely admiring the view, that's all!"

The Pope shuffled off, his robes trailing after him, Flynn spectacularly face-palming himself.

"Way to go, Cass," Jacob said, patting her on the head.

"Okay, we're looking for riddles," Flynn said quickly, "one of three things that dragons love - sleeping, Julia Roberts movies and riddles."

"Riddle this!" Cassandra said, jumping on a raised stone

"Well, it certainly beats processing papal possibilities while we peruse this perimeter looking for puzzles - and what am I saying!?" Flynn boomed, grabbing his head between his hands.

"Cracked," Jacob said, whistling innocently.

"These stones are raised slightly higher than the others," Cassandra continued, balancing on hers with some difficulty, "like - like - Fibonacci!"

"Golden ratios," Clara said, startling herself.

"See, I do teach you things," Cassandra beamed.

"I never said you didn't," Clara frowned.

"And _I_ never said you didn't," Cassandra countered, before suddenly skipping from stone to stone, making the floor light up with each footstep, rather like Michael Jackson, only to come to an even more sudden stop. "Oh, I lost it," she said, pouting, "I'm not sure if it's the left, or the right, or the centre" -

\- "They're not all the same stone," Jacob said, stooping down, running his finger along the ground, "this is early Roman concrete until they switched to marble. This is concrete, not rock." Without warning, he suddenly stomped down on a stone, only for the ground to crumble away beneath their feet, revealing a large tunnel like hole with a huge drop.

"Oh," Clara said, tilting her head to the side. But as she spoke, cops suddenly stormed the courtyard, guns raised, megaphones blaring orders in Italian. " _Oh_ ," she echoed, whirling around, hands raised.

"Geronimo," Flynn said deadpan, before jumping into the hole, the darkness devouring him. The others looked at each other before following his example, an example they wished he didn't set so enthusiastically.

 _It was worthwhile living a laughable life_ _  
_ _Just to set my eyes on a blistering sight_ _  
_ _Of a vicar in a tutu_ _  
_ _He's not strange_ _  
_ _He just wants to live his life this way…_


	7. The Queen Is Dead, Long Live The Queen

**The Queen Is Dead, Long Live The Queen**

"How is your search for the Library going?" Eve whispered to Flynn as they made their way through the winding tunnels.

"I'm almost close," Flynn whispered back, "and I've been getting a lot closer, if I could just get... closer."

Eve just looked at him, brow furrowing. Behind her, Clara rolled her eyes. She'd had the same conversation with him in a charming little tearoom two weeks back, just before he made the plate of cress sandwiches go up in talking flames, much to the proprietor's terror. Clara guessed she could take it as an omen of her future fate. As of now, she was being struck by a strong sense of déjà-vu, half expecting the Minotaur to loom out the darkness at them. She'd received a postcard from Archie, telling her to join a queue and do the Conga, but other than that, her memories of the Labyrinth had faded with the passing of time. But not now though, the past alarmingly almost becoming the present.

"Hello," Jacob said, coming to a stop.

"What is it?" Flynn asked, grabbing the doorway for support.

"Three pearls, just through there," Jacob said, jerking his chin towards them.

"Riddle or trap?" Cassandra asked herself, frowning.

"Probably both," Flynn said, taking a step forwards, only for Eve to stop him.

" _I'll_ check," she said loftily. "Right?"

"Left," Flynn retorted.

Eve rolled her eyes before stepping through the doorway. Instantly, the room was filled with light, revealing a large wooden horse, various marble statues, as well as the row of pearls carefully placed atop red velvet cushions. "See" - Eve began, only for an arrow to whizz past her nose, Flynn yanking her back just in time as hundreds of arrows suddenly started flying through the air, piercing the place she'd stood. "Okay," she breathed, "that was close."

"This is _very_ familiar," Flynn reminiscenced. "Hair-raisingly familiar actually."

"So what did you do last time?" Eve asked.

"I danced," Flynn said. "Well, _we_ danced," he amended, the memory making him wince a little. Nicole had been the first woman to hurt him, and she could still hurt him even now.

"We?" Clara said, raising an eyebrow.

"An ex of no note," Flynn said hastily, drawing her to him.

"No note?" Clara pressed.

"No note at all," Flynn said, his lips brushing her brow.

"So what do we do now?" Jacob said, only for Flynn to clamp his hand over his mouth. The first sign of silence, the arrows stopped flying, one going solo as Cassandra suddenly coughed, disturbing the stillness.

"It's _sound_ ," Flynn said, setting the arrows off again.

"So what do we do?" Jacob repeated.

"I'm going to draw the fire," Flynn said, snatching up a nearby wooden shield, before suddenly throwing himself into the fray. "Go, grab the pearl!" he yelled, running round in circles, the arrows missing him by a hair's breadth.

Before anybody could stop her, Clara was gone, hurling herself after him, hitting the ground knees first, tearing her tights as she slid across the floor, diving under the table the pearls were arrayed upon. "Which one!?" she screamed, as arrow after arrow zoomed past her. "They all look the same!"

"That's impossible," Flynn bellowed, "dragons play by the rules of the riddle. There has to be a clue!"

"The boxes are different!" Jacob boomed from the doorway.

"How?" Clara screeched.

"There's African wood carving," Jacob reeled off, "19th century Tectona grandis" -

\- "You're not on the Antiques Roadshow!" Clara shrieked.

"It's the middle one!" he retorted.

Clara grabbed the middle pearl, the arrows instantly stopping, everything still and silent once again. But as she did, her eyes turned violet, awakening the monster within, resurrecting the ghost of Guinevere.

 _Pass the pub that wrecks your body_ _  
_ _And the church, all they want is your money_ _  
_ _The Queen is dead, boys_ _  
_ _And it's so lonely on a limb…_


	8. For Old Times' Sake

**For Old Times' Sake**

"Hartley, are you alright?" Flynn said, coming over to her.

Without a word, she sashayed off, Flynn hypnotized by the sway of her hips. Before he could blink, she turned and pulled a lever, a set of bars suddenly crashing into being, dividing Clara from Flynn.

"What are you doing woman!?" Flynn demanded, grabbing the bars.

"Miss me?" Clara smiled, her eyes becoming filled with flames of flickering violet.

"Oh God, _no_ ," Flynn said, taking a step back as the others crowded into the room behind him.

Clara just smiled, a smile that spread itself across her face like a serpent, twisting and turning, deceiving and destroying.

Flynn swayed on the spot, his whole world caving in.

"What's going on?" Jacob asked, stepping forwards, only for Clara to suddenly grab him by the lapels, yanking him forwards, her lips crushing his through the bars. "What the hell are you doing!?" he exclaimed, tearing himself free, eyes wide with shock.

"What I should have done a long time ago," Clara countered, smiling again.

Jacob just stared at her, like he'd never seen her before.

Smirking, Clara blew him a kiss before sauntering off, holding the pearl aloft as she moved, eying it lovingly, the key to her freedom.

* * *

Clara examined her reflection critically, turning this way and that, tossing her hair over one shoulder, and then the other. It was her face and form, but something was amiss. With a snap of her fingers, her hair suddenly fell down her back like a dark waterfall, her dress and torn tights becoming a flowing blood red gown that clung to every curve. She nodded at herself, finally satisfied, only to whirl around at the sound of footsteps.

"Hello, _love_ ," Lamia sneered, drawing her dagger, ready to put the next part of Dulaque's plan into action. Flynn had taken the bait, embarking on a wild goose chase, leaving the Library open to attack in his absence. Dulaque had sent Lamia after Flynn and the others, ordering her to annihilate them, whilst he walked straight into the lion's den, facing down the only family he had left.

"Love is a fool's choice," Clara spat, slipping the pearl into her pocket. "Particularly when you love a man who loves another."

Lamia flinched at this, almost on the edge of losing control. "He doesn't love you," she spat back, her hands shaking, belying the lie.

Clara just eyed her contemptuously, a sneer curving her lips. "I like your hair," she said sarcastically, gesturing to Lamia's loose curls.

"You look... different," Lamia observed, circling her.

"That's because I am different, dear one," Clara said coolly.

"Different or not, I can still kill you" -

Clara suddenly lashed out, striking Lamia, as swift as a snake. "Dislocated wrist," she intoned coldly as Lamia screamed out in pain, "eight pounds of pressure per inch." Then she hit Lamia in the leg, making her collapse, another scream escaping Lamia's lips. "Trapezius nerve cluster," she said, standing over Lamia, "three pounds of pressure per inch." She bent down, grabbing Lamia's throat, choking her. "And six pounds of pressure to the carotid artery," she hissed, her gaze locking with Lamia's terrified one, "which stops blood flow to the brain."

"P-p-lease," Lamia pleaded, barely able to.

"This is unsatisfying," Clara said, throwing her aside. "I need a more worthy opponent."

* * *

"Going somewhere?"

Jenkins froze, clutching his cardboard box of teacups to his chest, trying to hold onto the last of all he had left. Other entities and beings had shown up to the Intercession, Ezekiel handling the situation with surprising aplomb, concluding the meeting on terms that satisfied everyone. But then Dulaque had appeared out of nowhere, calling a Conclave, the sight of him in the Annex more than Jenkins could stand. He had all but fled, leaving Ezekiel on his own, ready to hand in his notice at the first chance he got. Until then, he was as good as gone, his station-wagon ready and waiting for his departure.

"Galeas" -

\- "Do not address me by that title!" Jenkins snapped, whirling around, the teacups clanking in their box.

Clara tilted her head to the side, the wind rippling her hair, making it look snakelike.

"I shouldn't be surprised that you're here," Jenkins said, his voice shaking.

"I wanted to see you," Clara said simply, clasping her hands before her.

"Why?"

"For very old times' sake," Clara smiled, "not that you've changed any, not inside anyways. You're still holier than thou, judging everyone for the slightest error" -

\- "Why are you really here, Guinevere!?" Jenkins spat, rounding on her. "Is it to do with the Conclave? Because I can assure you Dulaque is destroying what is left of the Library quite well on his own, thank you very much!"

"Lancelot?" Clara said, taking a step back, all the blood draining from her face.

"Yes, he's here," Jenkins said, setting his cardboard box down on the car roof.

"And you're running from him - again?" Clara said, recovering herself.

"What else does it look like?"

"You have to choose," Clara said, her gaze burning into him.

"Oh, I _chose_ ," Jenkins said, his voice cracking, "and no good came of it. You know that better than anyone," he said, advancing on her, "and over the years, I chose again and again - each time, a little hope, and then it was gone, snatched from me. Blood was shed, hearts were broken - mine mostly. Everything and everyone I loved was cut down. Nothing changed." He looked away, his jaw working, fighting back the tears burning the back of his eyes. "I finally learnt my lesson," he said, "and I came here, to the Annex, to do my work, to be alone, and then _you_ were there, forcing me to choose. I chose Clara, but she's gone now, like everyone else. So what's the point of choosing, Guinevere, because nothing... nothing ever changes," he said, turning his back on her, shielding his eyes with his hand from her sight.

"You did," Clara said quietly, and when Jenkins turned around, she was gone.

 _Falling from high places, falling through lost spaces_ _  
_ _Now that we're lonely, now that there's nowhere to go_ _  
_ _Watching from both sides, these clock towers burning up_ _  
_ _I lost my time here, I lost my patience with it all…_


	9. The Serpent Deceived Me, And I Ate…

**The Serpent Deceived Me,** **And I Ate…**

 _Oh, poor me, she fell beneath the wheels to help me up_ _  
_ _Black Sea, I failed to be a light you found in love_ _  
_ _Oh poor me, she fell beneath the wheels to help me up_ _  
_ _Black Sea, the monster killed the melody you loved…_

"We end the Library," Dulaque snapped, getting to his feet, only to freeze as Clara appeared in the doorway, terrible and beautiful. "Gwen?" he said in disbelief, Ezekiel doing a double-take, his eyes staring out his head.

"Lancelot," Clara said coolly, stepping forwards, her skirts trailing behind her.

"But it cannot be," Dulaque said incredulously. "You're - you're" -

\- "Here?" Clara said, glancing at Ezekiel, who was on the edge of dribbling. He'd once said to Clara he was only interested in ladies who lived on the wrong side of the law, and here was the original Bonnie, the baddest of them all. He didn't see Clara, only everything he'd ever dreamed to find.

"Dear one," Dulaque whispered, taking her hand, drawing her to him.

"You really called a Conclave?" Clara said, raising an eyebrow.

"I am going to destroy the Library," Dulaque said, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger.

"If anyone is going to destroy it, it shall be me," Clara said, suddenly striking him in the neck. As he collapsed to the floor, writhing and gurgling, she turned to the rest of the Conclave, her eyes turning violet. "This is the beginning of the end," she said, Ezekiel openly drooling now, "if you stand against me, I shall cut you down. This world is for the taking - _my_ taking, and nobody else's. The battle was lost, but the war will be won."

"Clara," Flynn said from behind her, making her whirl around, "don't do this."

"Do not reprimand me as if I were a child," she snapped. "If you wish to upbraid, begin with Mr. Drake here. He stole the pearl in the first place."

At this, Mr. Drake discreetly made his exit, leaving the pearl on his seat.

"Where are the rest of your minions?" Clara then said, glancing over Flynn's shoulder at the back door.

"They'll catch up," Flynn said dismissively.

Clara just studied him before deflecting Eve's blow, second-guessing his plan, sending Eve sprawling to the ground. She then raised Eve's gun in the direction of Flynn's head, tilting her own to the side as she advanced on him. "I am going to end you," she hissed.

\- "I thought you were going to finish the world first," Flynn said, signalling the others to stay back.

"It's on my to-do list," Clara parried.

"What a woman," Ezekiel breathed.

"Well, kill me then," Flynn said, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't got all day."

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do," Clara said, her finger curling around the unfamiliar trigger.

"Clara, don't do this," Flynn said, dropping the bravado. "This isn't you."

"This is me," Clara spat, "I shall not deny myself" -

Jenkins suddenly barrelled into her from behind, sending her crashing to the ground, prising the gun from her fingers. As she fell, the pearl rolled out of her pocket, smashing to pieces, revealing the golden apple inside. "The Apple of Discord?" he said in disbelief as Clara sat up, pushing the hair out of her eyes, dazed and confused.

"The what!?" Flynn exclaimed, rushing forwards.

"It wasn't _her_ ," Jenkins breathed, burying his face in his hands, startling everyone.

"So is it over now?" Cassandra asked nervously.

"Seems to be," Ezekiel said, face falling.


	10. Stay With Me

**Stay With Me**

"It turns you into the worst version of yourself," Flynn explained, as Jenkins carefully locked the apple away. "Like an avatar of evil" -

\- "I really don't want to know," Clara said, wincing.

"Okay, we won't talk about it anymore," Flynn said, drawing her to him. "Just don't kiss Jacob again though," he added, making her glance up at him in shock.

"Jake?"

Flynn nodded.

Clara closed her eyes, before burying her face in Flynn's waistcoat, shutting out the rest of the world. Jenkins glanced at her, seeing Clara, not Guinevere. Guinevere was gone, and she'd never been. It had only been an echo evoked by strong magic, bringing out the worst of Clara's personality, although shades of Guinevere could be found in her behaviour. But that's all they were, shades and ghosts, smoke and mirrors.

"You know, in a weird way, you saved the world," Ezekiel said as he came over, making Clara raise her head.

"How?" she said, frowning.

"You stopped the dragons unleashing an apocalypse by ratting Mr. Drake out," Ezekiel said, "and you also stopped Dulaque from destroying the Library by Spocking him."

At this, Jenkins turned away, making Clara glance at him curiously.

"Yeah, but that doesn't really count," Jacob said, leaning against the wall, "she was going to destroy the Library herself."

"You didn't want Dulaque stealing your thunder," Cassandra explained to the appalled Clara.

"She still saved the world though," Eve said, frowning, "sort of."

"She tried to kill Flynn," Jacob pointed out, only for Flynn to round on him.

"That's enough," he admonished angrily. "It was under the influence of magic, so stop speaking as if she did everything at her own free will."

"Sorry," Jacob apologized, casting his gaze to the ground.

"And I'm sorry for kissing you," Clara said, wincing again.

Jacob just nodded, avoiding her eyes. He'd often imagined such a scenario with Clara, several in fact, but this time round, fantasy was better than fact. And he wanted more than that; he wanted what she gave Flynn, that faith and trust. He had her friendship, but not her heart. Jacob was protective of Clara, and despite her airs and graces, he genuinely liked her, but the fact he found her beautiful obscured everything else. He flattered himself he'd done a pretty good job of hiding his true feelings, but in this moment, he felt raw and exposed.

"And for one terrible moment, I thought I'd found my dream woman," Ezekiel said, shaking his head.

* * *

Clara leaned against the row of filing cabinets, careful to keep her distance from the others, the enormity of her actions hitting her all over again like a ten tonne truck. She was starting to remember random moments; pulling a lever, the look in Lamia's eyes, the weight of Eve's gun in her hand. It had been her, then it hadn't been. Even if she'd inadvertently saved the day, it didn't make amends for what she'd almost done.

"You have to confront your fears, Clara," Jenkins said, making her whirl around.

"Is... is _he_ gone?" Clara said, hugging herself. The various beings and entities had left quietly, satisfied with the conclusion reached at the Conclave, albeit a little taken aback at how such an end had been achieved. As for dealing with Dulaque, Clara had fled rather than face him again.

"Dulaque's deigning to leave quietly," Jenkins said, "for your sake, I might add." Jenkins had violently disagreed with Flynn's decision to let Dulaque leave the Library in one piece, but Dulaque had promised to make his exit quietly and discreetly, Flynn agreeing to it, anxious to have him out of the Annex before Dulaque revealed who Clara really was, destroying Flynn's world with one single word.

Clara bit her lip, before looking away, the moment becoming too vital, secrets on the edge of being exposed.

"Come with me, Clara," Jenkins said gently, taking her by the elbow. Against her will, he led her outside to where Dulaque was waiting by his chauffeured car, his skull-like face paler than ever. For one shining moment, Dulaque had thought victory and love were in his reach again. But Guinevere had been nothing but a ghost, his triumph only an illusion. It was Clara who'd stopped him, yet he couldn't bring himself to take his wrath out upon her. Instead, he aimed his ire at Flynn, holding him accountable, not only for defeating him, but for taking Guinevere away from him. He'd forced Lamia to tell him what'd transpired in Buckingham Palace, how Guinevere existed within Clara, and seeing Clara seek shelter in his enemy's arms had been more than he could bear.

"I know it was you," Jenkins said, coming to a stop in front of Dulaque, forcing himself to stand his ground.

"Know it was me what?" Dulaque said coolly, careful not to look at Clara.

"The business with the pearl," Jenkins snapped, "that you put Mr. Drake up to stealing it so you could call a Conclave" -

\- "It's over," Dulaque said, halting him with his hand. "Your side won, we lost. I'm just sorry I was that transparent."

"You woke the dragons," Clara said in disbelief, stepping forwards.

"I awoke you," Dulaque countered, finally looking at her.

Clara just stared at him, the blood draining from her face.

"Our sides have already been chosen for us, Clara," Dulaque said quietly, "there is no point denying your destiny."

"No, _we_ choose," Jenkins said, stepping in front of her.

Dulaque just smiled, before going into his car, Clara frozen to the spot, feeling like she had no choice at all.

* * *

Flynn found Clara behind his desk, stacking up books, which only unstacked themselves again, Clara continuing her stacking unperturbed. "Hello, Hartley," he said carefully, "still scattered to the four winds, eh?"

Clara glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"So, not scattered, then," he said, sitting down on the edge of the desk, ignoring its curses.

"Nope," Clara said, leaning back, making the old armchair tut at her poor posture.

"I heard you had a clown in here last week," Flynn said, picking up a paperweight.

"Two weeks ago, actually," Clara corrected, "just before our tearoom trauma" -

\- "Shhh!" Flynn said frantically, clamping his hand over her mouth.

"Alright, alright!" Clara snapped, shoving his hand aside. "Totally zipped! Savvy?"

"I wonder if I gave the wolf an Oreo, it would save the three little pigs," Flynn pondered.

"What's with the procrastination, big boy?" Clara asked irritably. "If you have something to say, just spit it out - unless it's a piece of chewing gum, of course," she hastily amended, "in that case, go binwards."

"I'll stay if you stay," Flynn said in a rush, startling her.

"What?"

"I'm out of practise being a person," Flynn said, confusing her even further, "but you're here, and I'm always taking off" -

\- "And you come back" -

\- "Shh!"

Clara stared at him, brow furrowing. "What's brought this on, Flynn?" she asked, bewildered now. "Why are you gabbling like a demented goose?"

Flynn half turned away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. How could he explain that he was terrified if he left her again, that he would come back to find Guinevere in her place. Or that every time he did leave her, it was getting harder and harder to. He had somebody to come home to now, his Hartley, and it broke his heart to set off into the unknown again. "This is your space now," he said with some difficulty, "not mine."

Clara stood up, starting to get scared now. "Are you breaking up with me?" she said, hiding her shaking hands behind her back, thinking of Jacob and what she'd done.

Flynn stared at her, shocked. "God, no!" he exclaimed, drawing her to him. "Not in a million mystic moons!"

"Then what is it?" Clara said, her voice cracking, not sure if she could take much more of this madness.

"You're here, and I'm everywhere else," Flynn said tiredly, smoothing back her tumbled hair, "and if you're here, I want to be here too."

Clara studied his face, noting the lines etched around his eyes, her gaze tracing his irregular features and broad brow. "This is _my_ space?" she quoted at him. "Try telling your desk that," she said, straightening his tie, "I don't think it's figured that one out yet."

Flynn raised his eyebrows at her, not quite following.

"Your place is here and there - wherever there is," Clara said, dropping her hands to her sides. "Or so I think your desk is trying to tell me."

Flynn tilted his head to the side, still silently questioning her.

"So I stay here, and you go," Clara said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But you come back to me, until you don't have to anymore."

"Anymore?" Flynn pressed, tilting his face to hers.

"Because you'll be here, with me, in the Library," Clara said, "where we should be."

 _And I said_ _  
_ _Stay, stay, stay_ _  
_ _I've been lovin' you for quite some time, time, time_ _  
_ _You think that it's funny when I'm mad, mad, mad_ _  
_ _But I think that it's best if we both stay…_

 ** _The End_**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story, particularly **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967** and **JustLurking**. The sequel, _Once Upon A Dime,_ can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile.


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